I finished yesterday's class at about 8 p.m., bundled away my zoom stuff, then came downstairs to slap the prepped cod-in-parchment into the oven and get a salad made; and as dinner heated and T and I stood around chit-chatting, I started laughing at the picture of my work week that had just leaped into my head. I told him that I was imagining every day as a new gopher hole . . . Tuesday I pop up into a high school class, Wednesday I pop up into a zoom workshop, Thursday I pop up as a panel emcee . . .  It was a comic view, but I have to say: it's a pretty accurate metaphor for the current ridiculousness of my schedule.

Tonight is the panel-emcee gopher hole, which means I'll spend my day honing discussion questions, vacuuming my house, hosting my salon group's pre-panel pizza party, and then moseying down to the bookstore for our event: "Writing in Community: An Evening of Prompts and Sharing with the May Street Writers." If you're in the Portland area, I hope you can stop by, as the store is lovely, my writer friends are lovely, and the communal prompt experience has been (for me) mind-blowing.

I think we'll have another cloudy day here in the little city by the sea. Far be it from me to complain about spring rain: I know we need every drop. But a touch of sunshine now and then would be a treat. Still, despite the murk, I might get outside into the garden today. I might have a chance to read Donne. It's barely possible I'll have a chance to transcribe a few poem blurts from my notebook, have the pleasure of figuring out if they've got any life in them. I have plenty of editing to do too, but that may need to wait until next week. There are only so many gopher holes I can pop up through without being eaten by the hawk.